In Between
by Terres De Brume
Summary: Aphrodite and Shaka are transported 200 years in the past... Follow them as they struggle to not only go back to their own time, but also to avoid killing each other... at first. Rating may change.
1. Of Holy Sand Clocks and Natural Needs

**Author:** Fania

**Fandom:** Saint Seiya, both Anime and Books.

**Disclaimer:** Kurumada-San keeps them close to him… I couldn't event steal a Bronze Saint!

**Note:** So, this is the Beginning of my In-Between project, which I talked about when I published _Flying Saints._ This will be a collection of One Shots following Aphrodite as he travels through time and learns to stop pretending he doesn't care about people. Occasionally, I may provide you with a link to my DeviantART account, where I will probably post a few drawings related to the Project, such as behind the scene things, or deleted scenes.

I hope you will have as much fun reading this as I have writing it =)

**Of Holy Sand Clocks and Natural Needs.**

It was an old habit of Aphrodite's, to run instead of walking.

He may pull off the I-am-insensitive-and-indifferent-to-everything act in front of his enemies –and in front of his fellow Gold Saints too, most of the time- he nevertheless was a simple man, and the fact was that he had never been able to just _walk_ from one location to another. This was even truer when his own body itself chose to remind him that he was a mere mortal by urging him _very_ insistently toward a toilet room.

So concentrated was he on his immediate problem that he didn't notice Shaka walking up the numerous steps linking the Pisces House with the Pope's Temple… it therefore came as a complete surprise to him when he collided with the Virgo saint and sent them both rolling down the sacred stairs in a mess of limbs, hair, gold and capes, their heads bumping against the cold angles of the stone.

It took them quite a long time to reach the bottom of the stairs and Aphrodite's garden, for even though it may not look like it, the Sanctuary took up a lot of space and five hundreds steps did make a long roll. The two Saints finally managed to disentangle themselves from each other, not without effort and quite a lot of swearing –at least on Aphrodite's part. Once they were done determining whose cape was stuck where –the Cloths may be incredibly classy, impressive and efficient in a fight, they were anything but practical for daily activities- and they had both retrieved their helmets, the two men got to their feet, Shaka let out the tiniest of sighs, and Aphrodite knew he was in deep trouble.

"One day, you will have to learn how to walk."

To any other ear, the voice would have been perfectly calm, void of any emotion whatsoever, but Aphrodite had grown up next to Shaka –'with' would have been too big a word- and he knew the Hindu's emotionless voice was never to be trusted as an indication of his mood… even his cosmos could be deceiving. In fact, such a sentence, so close to an actual scolding, was an in-deniable sign that Shaka was nothing short of furious.

Aphrodite could hardly blame him.  
The Virgo saint had never quite understood what had pushed him and the other renegades to attack the Sanctuary… he was way too pure to understand such twisted reflections, after all. Whatever the reason though, the fact remained that Shaka had never liked Aphrodite very much. Perhaps it had to do with the Pisces Saint's tendency to place appearances above all else, voluntarily ignoring anything that was not beautiful. Even the calm and even tempered Camus had gone so far as to call it a 'despicable and closed up attitude'… almost everyone thought Aphrodite was as shallow and air-brained as he made himself appear. Except maybe for Shura and Death Mask –Aphrodite couldn't bring himself to call the latter Anchise, which was his real first name. Aside from those two Gold Saints though, nobody ever saw what laid behind Aphrodite's indifferent mask, and since the Pisces Saint himself couldn't even tell _if_ there was something more to him than just the one who would barely talk to anyone outside his roses, he really couldn't blame the others.

"Do you know what I am carrying here?"

Aphrodite snapped out of his self-reflective trance and blinked a few time, before he finally rested his eyes on Shaka's arms. Sitting there was a large golden sand clock, engraved with figures going from young to old and then the reverse, deep lines linking the faces together.

"I'd say a sand clock, but we're Gold Saints so… some kind of Mythological sand clock?"

"This, is _Chronos_' holy sand clock, Aphrodite." Shaka's eyebrows almost –almost- knotted as he held up the clock for Aphrodite to see. "Had you broken it, you would have cast chaos and despair on Earth, you might even had provoked the fall of the human race."

It was said in such a matter of fact voice, such a detached tone… Aphrodite could never understand how Shaka managed to be indifferent to humans. Not that he himself was very fond of them –he mostly despised them- but at least _he_ acknowledged their existence, if only because protecting humans was what they had been trained to do.

"Sorry. I needed to use the bathroom… though I guess the fall cut the need."

"Bathroom or not, you have never been able to walk instead of running."

"Well, sorry for not being as perfect as you are, oh great Buddah." Aphrodite retorted. "You know, some of us like to _live_ instead of seeing the others doing so."

"Says the man who speaks to none but his flowers."

"You know Death and Shura will kill you if they learn you called them flowers, don't you?"

Aphrodite gave a smirking wink, struggling to hide the hurt he knew was present in his cosmos.  
Shaka, though he must have perceived his comrades' pain –nothing ever went unnoticed with him- did not comment on it, falling in concentrated silence. Aphrodite stood in front of the Virgo Saint, vexed. How dared he go off in meditation mode without further warning in the middle of ihis/i gar… Aphrodite's thoughts stopped, and he nearly had a brain attack.

"Where are my Pumpkins?" He yelled. "My Eggplants? My gardenias? My orchids? Someone stole my garden away!"

"Shut up." Shaka hissed. "Use your senses… there's something wrong here. Aside from the fact that the Sanctuary is under attack, that is."

"Under WHAT?"

"Attack. I'm trying to feel who is attacking us, but there's something weird with your cos… Aphrodite, come back here!"

But Aphrodite had already crossed his empty temple and set off toward Camus'. Whoever was attacking the Sanctuary must have been terrifyingly powerful to be able to pull off something so quick and unexpected… what if Shura and Death Mask, who usually trained at this early time of the day, were engaged in combat with this thing? Without their Cloths on, they were all vulnerable, exposed like children. Of course, he knew Death and Shura would put up a good fight if they had to, but even Gold Saints had limits, and Aphrodite certainly did _not_ want to think of what would happen if his two only friends reached theirs.

Crossed the training fields without hesitation as soon as he had made sure neither Anchise nor Shura were present, and followed the bursts of Cosmos characteristics of battles. One of them, though it was neither Cancer nor Capricorn's felt oddly familiar, but he didn't think about it too much. He had reached the final houses of the servants' village and was about to jump into the fight when a strong hand clutched at his hair and pulled him down.

"I thought you were a calm and composed fighter!" Shaka hissed. "Might I remind you that getting killed for acting stupidly isn't even remotely beautiful?"

"Death and Shura are here!" Aphrodite whispered through gritted teeth. "I am not letting them die."

"They are not here." Shaka countered. "Those Cosmos do not belong to any of the Gold Saints, even though one of them is oddly similar to yours."

Aphrodite was about to retort, but was cut off by a distinct cry of pain coming from further down in the streets, followed by much chuckles. Ignoring Shaka, the Pisces saint crawled forward to get a better view of the village entrance, and discovered the fight he had been running into.

"Who are they?" Shaka whispered. "Why is this one wearing your armor?"

Indeed, one of the two men, a long and blue haired one, was entirely clad in the golden armor of the Pisces knight. The other, a royal, grey-haired man wore the Griffin Spectral cloth, and seemed to enjoy his fight greatly.  
For a moment, it looked as though the Spectre of Hades was the winner, but then the Gold Saint straightened himself and threw a last attack.

"Crimson thorns!" he shouted, and Aphrodite gasped.

"I know who they are." The Swedish whispered. "This Albafica of the Pisces house… and the other one must be Minos."

"Thank you very much for your help Aphrodite. I wondered where was it I had seen these cloths."

"It's not what I mean!" Aphrodite scolded, barely restraining from smacking the other saint's arm. "Albafica was the one who first thought of fighting with roses. It is he who created all the attacks I have been taught by my master. This fight, this very set of attack, my master told me about it numerous time… this means we're back to the Holy War!"

"Which one do you think it is?"

"The one that just preceded ours. Look, you see this guy with the Aries Cloth? That's Shion. I think Dhoko will come up in a few second."

"Then we know we are not need…"

A strangled cry stopped Shaka in mid-sentence as Albafica realized his attack wasn't working. Aphrodite's fists clenched, and the Indian frowned.

"He seems to be losing."

"He shouldn't be." Aphrodite whispered. "He defeated Minos. He threw a Crimson Thorn more powerful than anyone had ever seen, and he used the distraction to kill Minos with a white rose… but he will never have enough blood to do bo…."

A chuckle from Minos distracted the two hidden Gold Saints, and they barely had time to see Albafica crumble to the ground, seemingly beaten. He was quick to come back into the fight though, and managed to stand on his feet, an angry look in his beautiful blue eyes.

"He just stuck a white rose in his own heart." Shaka remarked –and Aphrodite could nearly hear a gasp in his voice. "But Minos has proved his Cloth can easily block those. He needs a distraction."

"This is why he used the Crimson Thorns." Aphrodite sighed. "So as to force Minos to raise his Cloth wings and be able to aim at his heart… but he won't be able to do it in his state. He's lost too much blood already. He will need help."

"Wait, Aphrodite, we aren't supposed to interfere with history!"

But Aphrodite didn't listen to his comrade and, as soon as Albafica threw a new wave of Crimson Thorn, the Pisces Saint used the same attack, throwing his own blood in the battle. He was beginning to feel pale and giddy when Minos finally realized he had lost. Aphrodite waited until Shion and Dhoko –younger than he'd ever known them- took care of Albafica's body before he allowed himself to fall back on the ground, right beside Shaka, who quickly grabbed his shoulder.

"Do not do that again." The Virgo saint warned. "We cannot be seen in this time, it would be too dangerous."

"But how did we even get here? I mean, now. Whatever."

"I told you this was Chronos' sand clock. When you collided with me and we fell down the stairs, it must have triggered its power and taken us back two hundred years ago."

"You mean now."

"Aphrodite, do not make things more complicated than they already are." Shaka released Aphrodite's shoulder and leaned on his left. "We need to remain hidden until this Holy war is over, and we can try and ask Athena to send us back home. We have to leave the village."

"Do we really have to _crawl_ up there?" Aphrodite whined. "I'll get covered in mud."

"None of this would have happened if you hadn't been running, Aphrodite. Suffer in silence."

"Aw sorry about that, I forgot the closest being to God doesn't pee."

Shaka didn't answer, choosing to start moving instead. Knowing he wouldn't win this fight, Aphrodite followed his comrade, muttering nasty imprecations to designate his fellow saint, fervently hoping that Athena would send them home soon… he didn't know how long it would take him to try and murder the Virgo Saint if they were forced to live together.


	2. Goodbye Sanctuary

**Note :** Here is the second part to my In-Between project. I hope you'll like it as much as the previous one =)

**Quick Word to the Reviewer:**

_Denise2006:_ I'm glad you liked the beginning of the story =) Hopefully it will get funnier as time goes on, but bits by bits (I don't want to ruin their emotional potential). And don't worry, I do plan on finishing this story, but the updating of it may be a bit… uh… erratic, so to speak. It's a collection of OS, after all, so I'm taking my time to have the best inspirations possible =)

_ShinigamiSaisei:_ Aw, sadly Albafica was only a guest star for the first OS: even though I love him too, he didn't fit in the overall story Anyway, I'm glad the first part pleased you, and I hope this one will please you as well.

_Marta madzia: _Thank you! I'm glad the idea attracts you =) When I dreamed about it, I loved it instantly because of the ton of possibilities it offers =) I hope this second OS will please you as well as the first =)

**In-Between, Scene Two :**

**Goodbye Sanctuary**

"I still don't understand why she couldn't bring us back to our times!"

"Because she is the goddess of war, not time, Aphrodite. She doesn't have such power."

Aphrodite didn't bother pointing out the purely formal nature of his question and went on grumbling as he deepened the hole he was now digging in the ground, mentally complaining about his fate: not only couldn't he go back to his dear year of 1987, but he was also forced to abandon his cloth for almost forever!

"_I am utterly sorry, Knights, but I cannot send you back to your own time."_

"_You mean you can't do anything about it? That we'll have to live and die here?"_

_Sasha –or rather the Athena of this period- shook her head, her lavender hair flowing as she did so, her eyes full of sadness._

"_I cannot send you back to your time." She repeated. "There is, however, something I can do for you, but I fear the remedy will be worse than the illness."_

"_Why?" Aphrodite asked, tense in anticipation. Behind him, Shaka stood as still as ever, his expression the ever unreadable mask he ever wore, a faint bent of irritation in his little fingers, but the Pisces Saint did not care. Athena had heard their story, she had believed them, and she was willing to help them. Shaka may not care, but Aphrodite would be damned before he even thought of forsaken Shura and Deathmask so easily! "Why should it be so terrible if it allows us to go back home?"_

"_The only thing I can do for you is to grant you to live for the upcoming two hundred years."_

"_What, you mean we'd have to stay unmoving like Dohko?"_

_Aphrodite almost choked on the words._

"_No. Only one person at a time can use the __Misopethamenos technique, and as you know, I gifted it to the Libra Saint__. I cannot offer you this." Sasha paused a split moment, seemingly hesitating to further explain herself, but Aphrodite's pressing gaze finally convinced her. "I can, however, gift you with the same power that is given to the Pope. It would freeze your bodies ages for the next centuries and allow you to go back to your time."_

"_Athena, words cannot express how grateful I feel right now, I…!"_

"_What will happen, oh Goddess, if we are harmed or killed?" Shaka interrupted calmly. "Will we be protected from that?"_

"_No." Athena gave them a sad smile. "It is up to you not to be deadly harmed during these long years of your lives. Your cosmoses can protect you from any diseases, but if you ever encounter someone who is able to harm you, you will suffer as any other man."_

"_We have the cloths for that anyway!" Aphrodite scoffed impatiently. "They'll protect us from harm, no worries to have about that."_

"_In all truth," Sasha corrected, "I was about to tell you about your cloths."_

"_What is there to tell?"_

_Aphrodite didn't dare interrupt the conversation between the Virgo saint and the Goddess, for fear of missiong something important. What they were about to live was akin to a mission asked by the Pope –or rather, by Saga- he had to hit the target right away and come back alive. Being a murderer had at least taught him to listen carefully to any info he could get before heading for his destination._

"_There _are_ some rules you have to follow if you wish to be able to see your home again some day."_

"_We are listening."_

"_First, you can not bear your cloths. They must be hidden near the sanctuary, and not go out until you return to your rightful time. You, on the other hand, will not be allowed here before you are indeed back to your time. You are to leave on the morrow. Furthermore, your existence must not be known by anyone save me and yourselves. You will have to hide your cosmoses and immortality in front of all, else you wish your lifespan to be turned back to that of any other human. You will not be allowed to contact either me or the Sanctuary nor to alter the scheme of things. This mean to trying to kill the next incarnation of Hades, no trying to explain to your fellow Knights that Ayoros was actually innocent, and so on. Have I made myself clear?"_

"_Transparent milady." Aphrodite answered with the professional tone he had used to address Saga. "Our cloths will be buried tonight, and we will depart first thing tomorrow."_

_He then bowed himself out of the room and, grabbing Shaka's wrist, dragged him along._

Aphrodite finished burying his cloth and planted the second olive he had selected earlier in the morning. He had chosen the place himself: the two cloths were buried on either side of the path leading from the Pope's temple to the rest of the sanctuary, and olive planted near each of the boxes.

"There." He sighed with satisfaction. "This way we won't have any trouble finding them back, and a few tree roots won't be any problem to cut when we'll need to."

Shaka said nothing. He raised his head to face the setting sun, as if to take a last look at the sanctuary. Aphrodite imitated him, his throat tighter than he would have anticipated. He had, after all, known no other house than the sanctuary. He had been brought there in his fourth year, from a country of which he had a piercing cold for only memory. The Sanctuary had not only seen him become a Knight, but also a boy and, later on, a young man. He knew nothing of the outside world, nothing of how it worked and, powerful as he was, he couldn't help feeling a tad nervous about leaving the Sanctuary for two hundred years, no matter how exciting it sounded.

As the sun cast its last rays over the Sanctuary and the village of Rhodorio, Aphrodite allowed a tear to roll down his left cheek.

And for once, Shaka's cosmos expressed a sadness and anxiety matching his.


	3. Limits

**Note:** A short chapter –more of a snippet/drabble actually- but I had it stuck in my brain for several days and needed to write it down. The next one will be longer, I promise! I just needed to do that one first =)

**Quick Word to the Reviewer:**

_ShinigamiSasei:_ Ah yeah, it's difficult for them to leave the cloth behind, they're so used to have them one 90% of the time! They'll learn to live with it, though, and it'll probably give me some material to develop their personalities and relationships.

**Limits**

"Did I mention I hated rain already?"

"Twenty-three time today." Shaka answered. "But you may as well go for the twenty fourth, we've only been walking for thirty minutes so far after all."

"Do I detect some sarcasm in there?" Aphrodite smirked.

"Would it bother you this much if I said yes?"

"Bother me? Are you kidding? That'd mean you are actually _human_!"

Shaka mentally rolled his eyes as they made their way out of the village of Rodorio, each pace taking them further away from the only home they had ever known. Yet, Aphrodite didn't seem the least deterred by that. On the contrary, the Pisces saint was even more babbling than ever, ranting about any and everything, stopping every so often to wonder at whatever elected his admiration –plants, most of the time.

Aphrodite, it seemed, was prone to find beauty in everything. It, of course, provided an interesting contrast with his usual disdainful self –not that Shaka cared anyway- but it was also a source for frequent pauses, random exclamations and various samples of vegetal life shoved under Shaka's nose. At this rate, they would never reach another town during the upcoming week, and that truly annoyed Shaka: there was no way in hell he'd be stuck with Aphrodite for only company for more than a week!

"Oh WOW! Look at this wild rose! What a _beauty_!"

In fact, Saka reflected, he'd better make that three days.


	4. Never Normal

**Never Normal**

Judging by what Aphrodite had seen during their crossing of the nomad camp, the people of the community were all supposed to do something unusual, something normal people could not do… some of them even seemed to cultivate a weird, monster-ish kind of look, and that was what had convinced the Pisces saint to try and ask for their help.

He and Shaka had been walking aimlessly for more than a week when they hat spotted the dozen tents standing in the middle of nowhere, their colorful fabrics vividly contrasting with the sand and stones around them. They had immediately attracted the Pisces' eyes, appealing to the part of him that still marveled at the vivid red of a wild rose, or the softness of a bird's feathers. Of course, Shaka had protested: he had had to deal with nomads once or twice before he had been taken to a Buddhist temple, and most of these experiments had earned him more than his fair share of bruises –or at least, that was what Aphrodite had understood from the few syllables the closest being to God had deigned to provide him with.  
They had, of course, quarreled over the matter. Shaka had calmly but very definitely uttered a single 'no' and Aphrodite had tried numerous ways to convince him: soft, pleading, demanding, menacing, even, but none of it had worked: Shaka hadn't even batted an eyelid –which he still obstinately kept closed, anyways. It had quickly become obvious that none of them would accept a compromise anytime soon and, by the time they would have reached an agreement, the camp would have been gone.

Aphrodite wasn't unused to this kind of situation: soft as he may look, he had never hesitated to confront DeathMask and, most of the time, their arguments had to be settled by Shura. Since there was no judge with them to decide whether they would join the nomads or not, Aphrodite had resorted to the method he used whenever the Capricorn saint wasn't present to force the Cancer and him to stay fair to each other: he cheated. More precisely, he pretended to apologize and went as far as to offer a handshake to his comrade. Aphrodite was a good actor and, with Shaka's eyes closed and his cosmos hidden, he had had no problem convincing the Virgo saint that he had been sincere… only to throw his companion on his back as soon as their fingers touched.  
Shaka had hated this, even so much as to struggle a little before giving up. Fortunately for Aphrodite, he had already used the method on Death Mask, and Shaka was way lighter than the Cancer Saint. Moreover, without their cosmos, both him and Shaka were reduced to –almost- ordinary humans and the four kilos' difference between them played heavily in his favor.  
In the end, Shaka had resorted to silence –and cosmos or not, Aphrodite was sure his fellow saint was annoyed as hell- allowing himself to be transported as a potato bag toward the nomad camps.

When they reached it and Aphrodite laid him down, he had thought he would finally get a bit of peace, but that was counting without the Pisces saint. The latter had instantly taken to describing what he saw: the colors of the tents, the games of the children running between their legs, the strange appearance of some of the people present and the sick laughter of the eldest nomads in the camp mixing in a string of lighthearted babble which reminded Shaka of Kiki, Mû's apprentice.

Aphrodite had forcibly pulled the Hindu alongside him, all senses in alert but face smiling, until he had reached a tent bigger than the others and a man who wore a weatherworn hat along with a mustache so big it almost hid the lower part of his face.  
And so here they were now, Shaka remaining obstinately unmoving, feet firmly planted in the ground and eyes tightly shut, and Aphrodite trying to get the nomad chief to understand what they wanted. The 'conversation' was more of an incoherent babbling match accompanied by what Shaka guessed must be wild gestures but, given the situation, Aphrodite managed to be understood pretty well. Indeed, after a short half an hour, Aphrodite emitted an excited squeal and turned toward Shaka so abruptly that his sandals rattled on the ground.

"They want to know what we do!" He explained. "They're willing to take us in their circus!"

Shaka was still debating whether to ask about the exact nature of a circus or not when Aphrodite, obviously smarter than what he looked –or maybe just wanting to expose the extent of his knowledge- provided him with the answer.

"It's a moving entertainment, people in there perform shows so as to earn money… I told him you were a contortionist. It means you can bend your body into unbelievable positions –which you can- and I said I could make flowers appear out of nowh…"  
"You _what_?" Shaka hissed. "Are you mad? Athena told us not to use our cosmoses! She said…"  
"I _know_ what she said!" Aphrodite sighed. "Do you think I'm nuts? I don't explode my cosmos for a bunch of roses! They don't even need to be poisonous or anything, so long as people can see them, they won't feel anything back at the sanctuary. Plus, from what I understood, they'll be moving north soon, so we'd get away quicker, and there's no chance they'd discover us! It's the same for you, you could use your cosmos to feel your way around instead of being forced to rely on me. It'd save us a lot of annoyance."  
"Athena has ordered us not to use our cosmoses. Not Saori Kido, _Athena_!"  
"This isn't their exact choice of word, she said –and I'm quoting here- we'd have to _hide_ our cosmoses and immortality on front of all, she never said we couldn't use it. We can do whatever we want, so long as no one suspects that we have paranormal abilities and that we are immortal. Do as you wish, but I'm not starving my life away, this may be our only chance! Think about it Shaka, we may never have another chance to fit in a community, to get a place in this world."  
"Why can't we go to a village?" Shaka reluctantly asked. "Why can't we go toward normal people?"

Aphrodite sighed, suddenly understanding what was playing in Shaka's mind. Shaka was used to being normal. After all, among Gold Saints, he _was_ normal… or at least, he was far less freakish than some of his other companions –such as Aphrodite himself, for example. He was not a murderer, nor was he a renegade: among Gold Saints, he was normal, and it was only natural he would seek to remain in what he thought of as normality.

"Well," Aphrodite sighed, "for once, I've got blue hair. It'll go away –it's only a dye- but it's not exactly normal per-se. Then there's the fact that you're supposedly blind –not normal. The length of our hair? Not normal. The fact that I'm white as a ghost's ass? Not normal in 1739 Greece. The dot on your forehead? Not normal, even less normal due to its religious nature. And then there's also the fact we're going to live like, two fucking hundred years! We can't go with normal people Shaka. They won't accept us."

Shaka said nothing, remaining ever expressionless, but there was a slight, almost imperceptible twitching in his brow that clued Aphrodite as to how distressed he really was… but it was an absolute necessity to make sure he would assimilate and keep the fact in mind, so the Pisces saint chose to insist one last time.

"We're Gold Saints, Shaka. We'll never be normal."

**Note:** All the information I give concerning the weights, ages and sizes of our favorite knights in shining armors are taken from my friend's official copy of _Saint Seiya_, vol.13. According to it, DM is 184cms tall & weight 82 kgs, which is average built, while Shaka is much more on the thin side with 68kgs for 182cms. Aphrodite's height is 183cms, and his weight is 72kgs, which makes him reasonably slim.


	5. Gotten It All Wrong

**Author :** Fania.

**Fandom :** Saint Seiya.

**Characters: **Aphrodite and Shaka.

**Disclaimer :** No matter how much I ask Athena, she never agrees to having Kurumada-sama giving them to me… snif.

**Note :** First off, have a merry 2011 year =) I hope you celebrated and had fun.  
This chapter took longer than expected. It seems my inspiration got stolen away by my ongoing LotR fanfic (the fact that there are more people reviewing and asking questions about that one also helps, I'm afraid) and so I didn't have many things to write up until now. But I'm back in the matter now =)  
So there, enjoy Shaka's take on his new life.

**Quick word to the reviewers:**

_Yukirimi:_ I'm sorry, this took longer than expected to upload :S I'm glad you like the story though =)

_The Love Bug:_ How I love interesting questions ! 3  
Yes, Aphrodite & Shaka had to give the clock back to Athena. They were never supposed to have it in the first place, as Shaka was simply asked to transport it from Mû's house (where it was 'expertised' so to say) to the Pope's temple. Besides, had they been allowed to keep it, time-travelling via sandclock is an unprecise thing, and chances are neither Aphrodite nor Shaka would have taken the risk of being sent 50 years later than they should and learn that all their friends were dead. (Well, all of Aphrodite's friends. Shaka probably thinks of them more as a kind of tolerable surroundings).  
Also, Athena couldn't keep them with her to fight the Holy War, for it would have put them in close contact with Albafica and Asmita, who are their previous incarnations, and thus risked that the two 'versions' of their respective souls merged (Please, feel free to ask for clarification, as I am quite tired and feel like I'm not making much sense here )  
As for Shaka caring about being normal… well, it depends on how you define normal. Besides, the previous chapter was only Aphrodite's understanding of the situation, and he might have put a little too much of him in how he analyzed Shaka x)  
Aha, Shaka would never become a prostitute! He's too proud for that. I wouldn't put it past Aphrodite, though, to sell his body for money if it came to be needed. Granted, it would take a lot to make him do that (he's still a Saint, after all) but I think if it were a choice between prostitution or starvation/any kind of death for himself or Shaka, then he would be able to doing it. Perhaps also for a great cause, if he is given enough time to grow that kind of conscience. I wouldn't be able to tell you if he will end up as a prostitute sometimes in the story or not, though.  
Thanks a lot for your review, it's flattering to know you like this story =)  
Merry Christmas to you too, and happy 2011 year! =)

And now, off to the chapter =)

**05 Gotten It All Wrong**

A rope whipped at Shaka's cheek, its noise almost lost among the birds' chirping and the men's loud bellowing. People ran, hopped from one place to another, shouting orders at each other, ropes and sticks flying in all directions, shouts and laughter entwined with authoritarian orders.

It was the first morning in the nomad camp and Shaka had been sitting still on a rock for more than an hour already. Not that he minded staying still –he could go days without moving so much as a foot finger- but it was difficult to go into meditation with all the noise and movement breaking his concentration and rattling mercilessly on his already strained nerves. Shouldn't those people recognize him as what he was? Wasn't he the closest thing to a God they'd ever see? They really should have known better than to ignore him! Not that Shaka would tell any of it to anyone –Aphrodite would harass him forever if he ever heard of it… he'd probably say Shaka liked his comfort too much, or something of the sort. Perhaps he would call him a coward, he'd always liked to call people coward, because nobody but him ever dared insulting DeathMask. He didn't realize not everyone was looking forward to dying early. Not that Shaka cared, of course, but what use would he be to Athena if he died at the hands of one of the other Gold Saints?

"Shaka duck!"

As a trained soldier, Shaka always obeyed orders like 'duck' or 'get down'. He didn't really need to anymore –nor did his fellow saints- considering he was now able to move faster than anything in the world, but there had been a time, long ago when he was only a boy whose head barely reached as high as a chair –he'd grown up late- when he'd needed to be able to duck his elder's lost blasts… at first, he'd refused, having already been taught that he would be one of the strongest beings of the world, but Death Mask, Aprodite and Shura's near death experiment –they'd refused to duck one of Saga's earliest Galaxian Explosion- had taught every Gold Saint apprentice not to be too presumptuous and to instinctively duck when told to.

So it was his training which sent Shaka flying straight to the ground and out of a metal point's trajectory –he'd later be explained that a rope had broken –_again_- and gone in his direction and why couldn't he stay away from working people for God's sake?- This time, the nomads seemed to be concerned about him, even if it only lasted for a few minutes, just enough for them to realize that he wasn't injured, and then it was all over, nobody addressed him anymore. They probably thought he was mute as well as blind, anyway, seeing as he never spoke to anyone but Aphrodite, and never very loudly. They seemed to be reluctant to touch him, but not in the same way as the people from Benares… there was something different in their voices when they spoke his name, when they walked around him. Something Shaka couldn't quite place, but would certainly not ask about.

Something which, he was sure, was not present when those people spoke to Aphrodite. He could hear the smile in his voice and in theirs when they tried to communicate. Opposite to the Virgo Saint, Aphrodite could go wherever he wanted in the camp, and not just because he wasn't blind. There was something in him that allowed him to enter any tent he chose to, at any time of day or night. He spent his time walking about the camp, carrying random items Shaka didn't want to know anything about, arched his back to pull at ropes from time to time, and more generally never stopped blabbering about some action or another, which made Shaka's head feel dizzy –how did this guy manage to pay attention to such trivial things?

His obsession with roses Shaka could understand -they were, after all, his main weapon- but why bother about cooking? Why wonder at embroideries and marvel at stupid things like jugglers or bear tamers? Aphrodite managed to find interests in things that held absolutely none to normal people. Did Shaka ever make any effort to learn how to lace his sandals? No, because he, unlike his comrade, _knew_ he didn't have to, it wasn't _his_ job to get dressed. People were here for this. Normal people knew how to recognize those who should be taken care of, normal people knew Shaka didn't have to care for such trivial things as bringing money home or anything… normal people wouldn't have accepted Aphrodite's offer to make him a contori… conros… contri… whatever the name was. They'd have brought him scriptures to study, oils to bath in, scarves to wear on his sari… well, they'd have had to bring him _saris_ in the first place, but that was beside the point.

Aphrodite had said they would never be normal, but he was mistaken. He'd got it all mixed up. It wasn't them who weren't normal –not Shaka, anyway, Aphrodite _did_ tend to do things that weren't normal, even for someone who had a slight right not to worship him- it was people who behaved abnormally. It was people who'd gotten their identities completely wrong. They should have know Shaka was to be treated better than that. They should have known. And yet, they still insisted upon treating Aphrodite as their equal –couldn't they see he was a Gold Saint? Couldn't they see he'd been chosen by Athena -as unbelievable as it sounded- and that made him ten times better than any of them? Couldn't they see how superior Shaka was to Aphrodite, instead of acting as though he were a despicable man?

They'd gotten it all wrong.


	6. Without Cosmos To Warm It Up

**Author :** Fania.

**Fandom :** Saint Seiya.

**Characters: **Aphrodite and Shaka.

**Disclaimer :** Obviously, Chinese New Year wasn't enough of a good reason for Kurumada to gift them to me. That sucks.

**Note :** Merry Chinese New Year! I hope you'll like this chapter as much as the previous ones =) There's still not that much happening in there, but the more I write and the more I feel _In Between_ will not be as adventurous as I first thought it would be… Maybe I'll have to change the genre of the story later on… I don't know, tell me what you think?  
On another note, the following chapter shouldn't be too long to come, it'll be in this one's direct continuation, and I've started to write it already.

**Quick word to the reviewers:**

_Tenshi Icarus:_ Ah well, Gold Saints are quite funny when in group, but sending them all to the past would really have been too much work for me xD  
Besides, Aphrodite and Shaka recently became my favorite Gold Saints and, well, I thought there weren't enough fanfics about them, so I decided to have a go^^. I might write something that would involve more Gold Saints somedays, but not before I'm done with _In Between_, and possibly my LotR Fanfic as well^^'  
And don't worry about late review, it's still nice to read them ^^

_Denise2006:_ Wow, am I so obvious? (Aphrodite: Well, you _did_ put this story under 'Romance'. Me: Oh… _oh._ *Sheepish grin*) Anyway, don't worry, I'm not abandoning this fanfic, I like them too much =) It's just that sometimes, inspiration is a bit slower to come than it is for _Plus Seul_, due to the fact that there are more readers throwing wonderful ideas at my face for that fic… and there's also the fact that I'll soon have to do some historical researches, which will take a bit of time ^^'.  
But I'm not leaving those boys alone, don't worry dear! Thanks a lot for your review, and I hope you'll like the following chapters as much as the first ones, if not more than them =)

Thanks, also, to all of you out there who added this story to your alerts/favorites, or who read me without doing anything =)

Without further ado:

**06 Without Cosmos To Warm It Up.**

Months came and went, and their routine settled fairly quickly.

Aphrodite would rise before the sun was even up and practice a variety of physical activities with the nomads, including but not limited to the art of juggling, or knives throwing for instance. He would then join the women and help them cook breakfast, either by handing over whatever they asked of him, or by keeping the children occupied with some sort of story or flowers appearing in various places around him.

At that point, the sky would be getting pink with summer dawn, and Shaka would open his eyes. He would then join the others for breakfast, which he ate as far from the nomads as possible –though not far enough to get rid of Aphrodite, whose endless chatter had managed to hammer half those dirty people's names in Shaka's head already. When breakfast was over, he would go back to his tent and meditate for the whole morning, while Aphrodite joined whatever ongoing activity he could get a hold of, whether that be laundry doing, hunting, or alerting a village of the circus' presence.

They would not see each other until lunch, which went through much the same ordeal as breakfast. Aphrodite would then proceed to once more drown him with floods of nonsense concerning every and any activity he'd had between the two meals, and Shaka would steadily ignore him, confident that enough repetition would engrave every name in his mind anyway, whether he wanted it or not.

After lunch, they would go back in the tent and either doze off for a while, or tend to their appearances when a show was drawing near, combing each other's hair and silently adjusting the other's costume. Then, if there was no show, Aphrodite would engage in whatever game the kids fancied at the moment, and Shaka would go back to his meditation. If they had a show to give, they would perform their respective parts to perfection –Shaka's being a simple, abridged replica of his morning training- before going back to the camp to share dinner.

There, Aphrodite would laugh and sing and dance, having fun and, for once, forgetting about Shaka, forgetting to tell him about the children's smiles or the way the women cooked their meals, and Shaka would sit in his quiet corner, forgotten by all and perfectly content about it, until the elders sent everyone to bed.

And if he sometimes sat closer to the nomads, it was not, in any way, because the silence surrounding him wasn't as comfortable as it used to be without the familiar cosmoses of the other Gold Saints to warm it up.


	7. Mutual Toleration

**Author :** Fania.

**Fandom :** Saint Seiya.

**Characters: **Aphrodite and Shaka.

**Disclaimer :** They run too fast! I can't catch them! *Darts after Aphro*

**Note :** Man, that took longer than planned! I had originally intended to do the Hair-cutting and Tatooing things only, but then as I got to writing their dialogs toward the end, some new issues popped in, and I figured they should be addressed in this chapter… hence the heart to heart talk in the middle of the chapters… which makes it much longer than the previous ones xD

**Quick word to the reviewers:**

Well, no review, no answer x)

**07 Mutual Toleration**

"We're entering Italy tomorrow."

Aphrodite sat closer than usual to Shaka, his voice low and lifeless, his usual cheerful spirit gone.

"That's a pity, he sighed, I liked ancient Greece."

There was a faint, melancholic tone in Aphrodite's voice, and Shaka wasn't sure if it ought to be put down to their leaving Greece –well, what would later become Greece as they knew it, to be exact- or if he was simply missing his 'friends'. The year was 1743, and in the time Aphrodite and Shaka had spent sharing a tent in the nomad camp, the Virgo Saint had –despite himself, of course- gotten to know his comrade of misfortune better. He knew, by now, how to read Aphrodite's voice and words to deduce what kind of mood he was in at the moment, at least in most cases. There were still moments, though, when Shaka could not know for sure.

Aphrodite had never mentioned either of his fellow traitors' names, not even at night, when they were alone and no one could hear them whisper to each other. In fact, after the first few days, he had even stopped evoking the fact that they had cosmoses, or that they were Gold Saints, as though he wanted to forget it entirely, to get rid of the memory. Right from the beginning, he had dived into the nomads' lives, drowning in their work, their tongue, their clothes, even going so far as to burn the clothes he had worn on their first days in this time, while Shaka had devotedly kept his. They weren't much –a faded pair of jeans and a plain white T-Shirt so that his cloth wouldn't cut at his skin- but still. They were part of him, and the only material memory Shaka had allowed himself to keep. Aphrodite had had his hair for this purpose… for a while.

_"So, what is it?"_

_There was a surprised silence as Aphrodite came to term with the fact Shaka had just spontaneously addressed him, and the Virgo Saint inwardly sighed. The Swedish man had been silent for the whole evening meal, not even trying to pretend he was mildly amused by the playful banters occurring between the chief and his son, and as loathe as Shaka was to admit it, it set him on edge._

_He had had to get used to a lot of things during their first three months in the camp, learn to consider a new routine, a new normal, and strangely enough, Aphrodite's endless string of words during the meals –whether they were addressed to the Hindu or not- had become part of that routine. Shaka had gotten used to gauge the camp's mood and political movement by the sound of their voices –there was a particular edge to the chief's laugh when he was being careful, a high-pitched thrill when Aphrodite joked off yet another question about the strange language he and Shaka spoke in. Without Aphrodite's voice among the others, the night felt weirdly empty and cold, just as it had felt in the first weeks, when Shaka still missed the familiar comfort of his fellow Saints' cosmoses. Aphrodite's voice had, surprisingly enough, come to replace this feeling, and the lack of it was unnerving, at best._

_"I know there is something bothering you," Shaka insisted when no answer came after the first full minute. "What is it?"_

_"Why do you care?" Came the surprised remark._

_"Your bad mood is spreading to _them_. Bad feelings prevent me from meditating properly."_

_There was a derisive chuckle, followed by a long silence. Then, just as Shaka was about to start talking again, he heard Aphrodite take a deep breath, and then…_

_"I had my hair cut."_

_Shaka's eyes snapped open on their own, and he was met by the very strange vision of a short-haired Aphrodite. He had lost a bit of weight, but gained in muscles, and his skin was much less white than it had been, tanned by the long hours Aphrodite spent outside. He wore a simple pair of short legged trousers and a plain white shirt with leather laces. His hair, no longer the opulent azure mane Shaka had had a glimpse of once or twice in his life, but a short halo of thin curls framing his face, which reminded Shaka of a Cherub painting he'd seen long before, in Camus' office._

_"It looked horrible." Aphrodite explained, shifting under Shaka's bemused gaze, and the Virgo Saint finally thought of closing his mouth. "What with the sun and the fading dye. So I had it cut at where it looked good. Besides, I'd have had to cut it eventually, because Egidio –the one who sounds like he's barking when he laughs- is going to teach me acrobatics –says I'm the perfect built to be lifted and lift others alternatively, so it's good- but you can't do acrobatics with hair so long –it'd get in your eyes and be dangerous- so anyway I've just done is a bit earlier than necessary… and it's better this way, anyway, because it's scorching hot here, and draperies aren't as cooling as marble and…."_

_"Aphrodite, you're babbling again."_

_"Well, stop staring at me and I'll stop babbling!"_

_Aphrodite's cheeks went a shade darker, and Shaka realized he hadn't closed his eyes back. He quickly did so, and not too soon, judging by the footsteps he heard approaching immediately after his eyelids were shut._

Aphrodite didn't wait for Shaka's advice on Italy before he left their tent and went back to the usual bustle of departure. The Virgo Saint, as had become his customary task grabbed their sparse belongings and went out of the tent, waiting while Aphrodite helped the nomads unmake the tents and pack them up. Later on this day, as they had been walking alongside each other for four hours without a word from the Pisces Saint, Shaka decided he had had enough, and whispered:

"Why haven't you talked all day?"

"It doesn't matter."

"You _never_ stop talking, Aphrodite. Even in your sleep you're unable of shutting your mouth completely. What's wrong?"

"Nothing it's just…."

"What?"

"I miss my friends."

Shaka refrained from snorting. Friends? What friends? Shura and Death Mask? Please! Those two men didn't know the meaning of feelings. One of them killed children for fun, the other had willingly assassinated the man he had claimed to be his friend, without so much as a twitch in his eyes! As for Aphrodite… well, maybe he thought he was capable of understanding the meaning of the word 'friends' but obviously he'd picked up a deformed definition.

"You'll see them again." Shaka said with the tone of someone commenting the weather.

"Oh shut up." Aphrodite sighed. "You don't even think they're my friends."

"Colleagues, at best. Just because you were foolish enough to stand up to Death Ma—"

"Anchise." Aphrodite cut in. "His name is Anchise."

"So he _did_ give you his real name?" Shaka arched an elegant eyebrow, deeply shaken by this revelation. "I thought it was but a rumor when the twins told me about it."

It was Aphrodite's turn to snort, but he didn't try to pretend it didn't happen.

"Yeah right. The twins."

"Well… yes, the twins." Despite himself, Shaka let his face express his surprise and confusion, just this once. "What do you have against them?"

"Against _them_ I have nothing," Aphrodite spat. "Saga was sick, and Kanon's choices were driven by despair –I'd probably have acted the same if my own brother had trapped me in a cave for my whole life. It's the rest of you I can't stand."

"Us?"

"Yes, you. And don't give me your surprised lip-twitching, it doesn't work on me. Did you really expect me to respect a bunch of stuck up hypocrites?"

"Aphrodite, I don't allow you to…."

"To what? Point out you aren't as pure as you all pretend to be? I'm sick and tired of the lot of you looking at us like we're some sort of excrement soiling your boots! You keep saying it's because we were traitors, but it's false! You've always put us aside! Even when we were kids, you never liked us, because I looked like a girl, Anchise has white hair and Shura forbade Milo to harm me during our first days in!" Aphrodite's voice was rising in volume, something Shaka had only ever heard happening when he did screaming matches with Death Mask… but even then, his voice had never held the cutting edge it now contained. "Did any of you ever stop to consider how it felt to be cast aside by those who should have been our family? What do you think went on through our heads when Saga ordered us to help him change the world? Do you think I agreed because I was a sadistic monster? Well, if you think that, you're wrong! Because the only reason I helped him, the only thing that got me in, was because I thought it was the only way I'd ever have a chance of feeling normal!"

People around them were stopping walking, staring at them and desperately trying to understand what Aphrodite was shouting at Shaka's face. The Virgo Saint could feel it, just as he could feel Aphrodite's tense body and the thin, almost imperceptible trace of angry cosmos it exuded.

"Nobody liked us, nobody tried to befriend us… we felt lonely! We felt lonely, but we were too proud to admit it, and we didn't even know where to start! Needing someone is a weakness, that's what we've all been taught during our trainings, how did you expect us to tell anyone we needed to stop being on our own? We were fourteen and we were jealous! Jealous of you lot who seemed to be friends, who never got a single weird glance, or insult, or random attack thrown at you, because we _did_ get those! We wanted a world where we could fit in, and the only one who was able to bring us that was Saga, _that _is why Shura followed him in the first place! He thought it was unfair Anchise and I should be cast aside because of the way we looked! And believe it or not, Shura is my _friend_, and I was certainly not about to leave him get into this alone! So I followed Saga's order, because I wanted a new order of things too, and so did Anchise! We were young, and alone, and stupid, and I won't deny we were wrong, I won't deny we created an awful lot of chaos and all that, but I also _won't _accept that you guys keep calling us the traitors!"

"Well, you did come back as Spectres!" Shaka snapped. "We all saw you wearing those dark cloths!"

"Because there was _no_ other way to get back into the fight!" Aphrodite's voice was getting raw from screaming, and Shaka could hear the wet touch of tears in his tone. "We took these cloths because it was our only chance to try and help you stop Hades! And I _know_ you'll tell me we used the Athena Exclamation, but there was more than the three of us! Camus helped us, and Saga as well! Why don't you guys resent _them_ too? Or is it indispensable to be friend with Milo to be forgiven? And Aioros, the bastard! He keeps acting all pure and mighty, _ha_! He didn't even try to understand Shura when they were supposedly friends before Saga ordered for his death! As for the Twins! I understand why Saga deserves a better treatment than us, what he did wasn't his fault, but Kanon knew he was wrong! He knew what he was doing and he still did it! So _why_ does he just have to say 'I'm sorry' for everyone to welcome him with open arms, and _we_ can't even get a 'good morning' once in a while when Shion himself said we should be forgiven as well? You're a bunch of heartless bastards, _that's_ what you are! You keep pushing us away, assuming we're not worth helping or talking to without even _trying_ to get to know us! No wonder why we were so keen on getting rid of you lot! Even now, _three years_ after we've been stuck in the past, you're still not trying to understand me! I've tried, you know! I've _honestly_ tried to talk to you, to be as friendly as I could, and yet, here's my reward, you only talk to me when my silence is getting on your nerve! It's always the same with you, always 'me, me, me, memememememememememe_me_!' no wonder why everyone in the camp _hates_ you! You're a stuck up moron!"

Shaka could feel his cosmos boiling in his veins, angry and vexed. He thought of throwing his fist to Aphrodite's face –they were both so angry, they couldn't completely hide their cosmoses anymore, and the other saint's position was as obvious to him as it would have been with his eyes open. He could feel the nomads gaze on them, however, and a quick search with his cosmos forced him to acknowledge the truth behind at least part of Aphrodite's words: they mostly longed to throw him away and abandon him to his fate. It was very likely that the Pisces Saint had been the one preventing them from doing so, and Shaka deemed it safer not to show how far their disagreement went. Breathing deeply, he clenched and unclenched his fists, struggling to get his cosmos back under control. After a while, everyone started moving again, and he thought they were back on the road, until someone roughly shoved him aside, and the custom barked orders signaled him that they were setting camp here until next morning.

Shaka sighed deeply, sat down on a stone and pretended to go in meditation.

0oOo0

To be completely fair, Shaka was impressed at Aphrodite's stubbornness. Usually, the Pisces saint was incapable of keeping silent more than ten minutes in a row, for he seemed to have a need to be always talking –whatever the reason behind it. Shaka had thought he would simply ignore him, but remain the same with the others… he hadn't uttered a single sound all day.

As for the Virgo saint, he had had all the time in the world to ponder what he had been told, and the results weren't joyful. He still couldn't believe it was exclusively the Gold Saints' fault Aphrodite and the two others had chosen to follow Saga despite their knowing he wasn't the rightful Pope, but he admitted, at least, that their being excluded while Saga and Kanon were now a part of the group was neither logical, nor fair. Not only that, but he was also capable of seeing that his attitude toward Aphrodite had been more than improper. All feeling business cast aside, his master had always taught him that debts had to be paid, and judging by what he'd felt that morning, Shaka owed Aphrodite for protecting his physical integrity during those three years… therefore, he had come to the conclusion that he must somehow repay it, and he had endeavored to prepare himself to it.

It was well into the night when Aphrodite finally entered their tent, which he had carefully avoided all day. He paced heavily to his thin couch and discarded his shirt, before he finally noticed a change in his surroundings.

"You're missing brace—why are your eyes open?"

"What I want to do is better done with eyes open."

"And what, exactly, do you want to do?" Aphrodite asked carefully.

"Sit down, and I'll show you."

Aphrodite reluctantly sat down, and Shaka grabbed his left wrist, securely sitting it in his lap, and began cleaning it with a tissue imbibed with wine. They sat in silence for a few moments, before Aphrodite spoke again:

"That doesn't tell me why you're missing… three bracelets."

"Well, as you mentioned this morning, they don't really like me. It is only logical they wouldn't lend me something without payment."

"But… how did you manage to ask them anything?"

"Well, I've been forced to listen to them for the past three years… I managed to grasp a little of their Greek. Add a lot of pointing and grunting, and there you are."

"And what exactly did they lend you?

"Is this an enquiry?"

"I'm only trying to guess what you're doing."

Shaka kept a blank face as he retrieved a bottle of ink and a set of small knives from a cushion beside him. He made sure the blades were as clean as possible, then poured a small quantity of ink into a cup, which he placed on the ground beside him before he answered:

"When I was young, in Benares, there were men who did this all over their backs… they used to get tigers, so that it would give them strength."

While he spoke, the Virgo saint had grabbed a knife and, holding Aphrodite's wrist in place, he cut through the skin, to form the traditional symbol of the Cancer house, two curved lines facing each other figuring a crab's body, and two circles standing for its eyes. Though Aphrodite didn't look like he enjoyed the sensation, he didn't move the slightest bit, and Shaka poured ink in the fresh wound, making sure it covered every part of it. Then, with the same knife, he traced the complex sign standing for the Capricorn constellation, and filled it with ink before wrapping the Pisces' wrist in bandages.

"Keep it on for a few days. If it goes well, the symbols should stay forever." There was an uncomfortable silence, which Shaka broke uneasily: "After all, the names are part of a person, or so they say."

"Well… thank you." Aphrodite murmured at last. Then, after a pause, he added: "Maybe you're not as heartless as I implied."

Shaka took time to engrave the Pisces' blushing face in his memory before he turned to hide his smirk and closed his eyes again. They still weren't friends, but at least, they had finally taken a first step toward mutual toleration.

**NB:** The Tattoo technique Shaka uses is taken from the book _Papillon_ (adapted into a movie with Steeve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman) which is the Autobiography of a French man condemned to go to a _bagne_ (very harsh prison) in Cayenne (Guyanna) for his whole life. At one point in the book, he uses this technique to tattoo a south-american Indian man. You should read this book (or see the film) if you come across it, for it is a very interesting testimony on what France could impose upon its citizen a few decades back.


	8. Hiatus Notice

Hello, dear readers !

I am posting this to inform you that I will be taking a break from _In Between_ for an undefined amount of time.

As some of you may remember, I am currently writing a _Lord of the Ring_ fanfiction entitled _Plus Seul_ (which is available for reading if you understand French/are interested).

I originally wrote alternatively for both fictions, which used to progress at pretty much the same pace, but this habit has been broken by the latest evolution that took place in _Plus Seul_: in this fiction, I had Legolas be a Holocaust survivor, and I am currently writing about how he explains about it to Elladan and Elrohir (who didn't even know about World War Two before Legolas' confession) and then deals with these memory and the fact that he just (unwillingly) shared them for the first time. Due to the rather difficult theme approached and the amount of subtlety and work these chapters require, they are currently taking up most of my free time from Uni, which is sparse.

In these conditions, were I to try and continue writing for _In Between_ at the same time as I write for _Plus Seul_, I would only be able to come up with half-baked chapters, lacking in both quantity and quality, as has already been the case too many times, and this is not something I want to do, especially since Aphrodite and Shaka _will_ be confronted to World War Two as well, and I really, really don't want to be forced to go over this quickly or carelessly.

For these reasons, I prefer putting _In Between_ on Hiatus until the pressing issues of _Plus Seul_ are resolved and/or until the fic is finished, depending on how far I plan to go with Tolkien's elves.

Be assured that I _will_ come back to our favorite knights in shiny armors as soon as possible, and that I will do my best to satisfy you with their story.

Until then, please know that any question and/or remark you might have is welcomed very warmly, and that I will try to answer you as best as I can.

Thank you for bearing with me so far, and following Shaka and Aphrodite in their adventure. In the hope of seeing you here again when I come back,

You devoted Author,

Fania.


	9. And Then They Were Friends

**Disclaimer :** Any character you recognize belongs to Kurumada or its original creator. The others are probably mine.

**Note :** Okay guys, back to our adored knights! A bit of feedback, to celebrate? Pretty Please?

**A Word to the Reviewers:**

_Denise2006:_ Hehe, I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter =) I don't really think they could evolve much more quickly than that, though, they start so different! They can't really fall in love that quick, because they have to learn how to be a person rather than a knight, first (and yes, Aphrodite has a bit of experience there, but Shaka has none) and so, until they know who they are, they can't very well fall in love with tomeone. Being friend, though... well, they're starting it, yeah, I know it's frustrating -_-  
Ooooh, Liquor in Shaka's drink... ah, that could be fun, provided he doesn't smell it before drinking xD But yeah, lots of potential here xD  
Ah, well, the posting... I'm thinking of changing it, actually, and keep my next fics to myself until they're completed and I can post them at affixed days of the week. But meh, I'll see what I do when I get new fic ideas, right? x)

_ShinigamiSaisei:_ Hehe, I'm glad you liked the previous chapter =) Thanks for commenting!

_Hekate-sama: _Aw, thanks for choosing this story for your first comment! It means a lot to me 3  
I'm also very glad you like the way I picture Aphrodite in this fic, it's always a bit risky to try character development with the Gold Saints, because we know so little about them, so everyone has their own version of them :S  
Ah, your English looks okay to me! Granted, I'm not a native, but still x) Just a note, though, I don't think 'rudeness' was the word you were looking for here: it means impolite, and you haven't been rude at all =)  
Sorry for being so long to update, but I'm back in the business, now.

**08 And then they were Friends**

One night, in the heavy summer of 1749, Shaka was woken up by a hand on his mouth and nose. He was halfway through the process of casting his opponent off when he heard Aphrodite's urgent, angry whisper in his hear:

"Open your eyes you stupid! Got to go."

"What do you mean?" Shaka asked in the same ushered tones. "I thought they were your friends!"

"Yeah, you wish!" Aphrodite snorted. "They liked me well enough in the beginning, until they noticed I didn't age. They kept us because our numbers were interesting and you're not completely useless, but they think we're some sort of witches now. Egidio just came to warn me, they're planning to hand us out to the church or something."

"Do you _actually_ know anything about the inquisition?" Shaka asked in disbelief.

"Egidio told me enough about them to know I don't want to meet them," Aphrodite replied curtly, grabbing a sparse blanket and stuffing it in a bag.

"And did Egidio tell you anything about how to make a living in this world? Or does he plan to let us starve along the way?"

"We'll figure something out once we're safe." Aphrodite ushered with the air of someone putting unpleasant thoughts away. "For now, we've got to run."

"It could be a trap for all we know, Aphrodite!" Shaka hissed, all the while untangling himself from his bedroll covers.

"No, I trust Egidio, if no one else. Come on, quick, grab your bedroll and all the gold and food you can find, we'll make do with what clothes we've got on at the moment. And stay silent."

Shaka didn't know a lot about sneaking in or out of somewhere. To tell the truth, his life had been pretty miserable before he was taken in by some monks of Benares, and the memories he kept from that time were fist and scar-shaped. Going on through his training as a knight, he'd never really been taught how to hide himself, how to be discreet… what was the need, when he was supposedly one of the twelve most powerful being in the world? Truth be told, the Gold Saints' ability to hide their cosmoses were nothing more than the result of Aphrodite and Death Ma –Anchise's mockery: they'd learned to do it all by themselves and had used it to sneak up on their comrades for revenge until they all picked up the skill and it lost its appeal. Everyone had tactically agreed never to mention the unreasonable quantities of cake tosses and itching powder that had been used in the meanwhile ever again.

If there was one thing Shaka had learned since he was stuck in the past, though, was that Aphrodite was proud, but not a boaster. When he said he was good at something, he generally was, and when he took command by force, it generally meant he knew he was the best suited for the role at the time. For this reason, the Hindu didn't protest too much as Aphrodite ushered him out of the tent by the side opposed to the entrance and then grabbed his wrist to drag him out of the camp.

"Don't open your eyes," the Pisces whispered. "Keep them closed, but use your cosmos to feel for enemies around… a hundred paces should do. This way."

He dodged between the two main tents of the camp and, following Shaka's indications, carefully avoided two of the archers that patrolled near them, before leading them toward the unstable cliff that sheltered their camp from the wind. Egidio was there, and Shaka barely restrained a curse, but Aphrodite squeezed his wrist and he kept silent. The nomad and the knight exchanged a few words before Aphrodite enveloped him in a hug and, stepping around him, promptly knocked him out with a strong elbow on the temple.

"Come on," he said, grabbing about half of their meager belongings. "We've got to climb this and put as much distance between the camp and us before dawn."

And climb they did. Between their training as knights and the regular exercise they'd had to have while at the camp, it didn't take them very long to climb up the cliff, while it would take their pursuers hours just to ride to the end of the pass and then come back to pick their trail… even if they clued on their disappearance immediately and found Egidio knocked out on the ground, Aphrodite and Shaka would be too far for them to be caught without risking the death of a few precious horses in the hunt. If they played their cards well, the two Saints would be safe. They walked through the night, young moon their only light, following Egidio's directions as best as they could to reach the next river.

"I don't know what to do next," Aphrodite confessed when they'd reached the water and set up a makeshift camp under a tree. "You ask me about the cold, snowstorms, ice-walking, I can do it without thinking, I still remember it all. Here I'm at a loss. I'm good with quick escapes, following directions, killing and then making do until I can find somewhere I'm more or less taken care of. I have no idea how to build a life. I was never taught." He sighed, deep and bone weary, as though their escape from the camp had broken some sort of dam within him, caused his emotions and doubts and fears to spill out in the open, ugly blotches of dirt and sweat against his skin. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Shaka found himself answering. "I've never been taught either."

"What do we do then?"

Aphrodite's eyes were wide, undecided, clouded. He didn't look lost, though. Uncertain, maybe nervous or even a little fearful of what lay ahead of him, but not lost. More like… someone at a crossroad. The thought clicked something in Shaka's mind, and he suddenly came to the realization that this was it. The moment where he had to make a choice, this was now.

Several years earlier, he'd offered Aphrodite a truce, where he didn't attack the Pisces, and in exchange, nobody ever mentioned he owed his survival to his fellow Saint. That had been an accord of neutrality. An agreement to ignore each other… or at least, an agreement for Shaka to be allowed to pretend he didn't know Aphrodite cared, even if out of sole duty –though somehow, Shaka doubted that was the case. Now was the time to move past this agreement.

If Shaka chose to go his own way, then this would be it. Goodbye until they reached their rightful time –_if _they reached it, of course- and they went back to their lives, as if nothing had happened. Aphrodite would bicker with Anchise and Shura, while Shaka would simply go back to meditating in silence all day long. Except… could they really do that? Shaka liked to think he was brave enough to face the truth, which was why he didn't waste too much time on hopeful lies. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back and pretend nothing had happened.

Nine years, they'd spent in the nomad camp. Nine years he'd spent listening to people, learning to recognize their tones, their voices, their footsteps. He'd listened to them whisper tender nonsense to their lovers, bicker with their siblings, scold their kids, murmur cold rumors and wishes when they thought he couldn't hear, couldn't understand. No matter how far aside he'd tried to cast himself, he'd still learned this life, learned its rhythm, its pulse, tuning himself to it. To Aphrodite. Because that was what it all came down to, right? Aphrodite and himself. They were going to be the only one for each other for the next two hundred years or so. They knew each other's silhouette know, had learned the outer layer of each other's soul, could recognize it as well as their own.

Could Shaka pretend all this was nothing? Could he pretend he didn't expect to rise every morning to vertebras popping back into place and a muted grunt? Could he pretend he didn't feel unstable without this steady breathing an arm's length away? And how Ironic was it that Aphrodite, of all people, should be the one to bring life and warmth into his existence? Those were concept Shaka wasn't familiar with. None of them truly was.

But Aphrodite, Anchise and Shura, they'd spent time outside the Sanctuary. They knew what living looked like, knew what it smelled like, sounded like. They'd bathed into it like a lizard bathes in the sun, content and blooming until the moment they had to come back to their base, to a place where they could never be more than the two murderers and the one who betrayed Aioros. Shaka hadn't understood then, hadn't realized what he was missing. He'd stayed in his temple, like most of the others. And even Mû and Dhoko, who'd gone out, they'd still chosen places where life simply wasn't an option. They could train and work and fight there, in the middle of the mountains, or under the waterfalls, but they could never live. And Shaka –just as the others- had been fooled. He'd thought he'd been given life, given everything he needed… but he hadn't. the nomads had taught him that, if nothing else.

Now that they were out of the camp, it was clear Aphrodite was going to continue on this path. That he was going to grab every bit of life he could manage and drink it to the very last drop, until the very moment his Cloth would be back on his shoulders, the weighty Gold keeping him down, trapped in the beautiful prison of his garden, his wings clipped.

As for Shaka, his choice had yet to be made. Did he chose to spend two hundred years looking at people from afar, and then spend the rest of his days knowing he'd survived, but not lived, or did he chose to imitate the Pisces Saint and cherish the gift he'd been offered while he could? Living this long would not be easy, and it would not be perfect, but it would be living nonetheless, right?

How could he be sure, though?

"What do you want to do?"

"Cook," Aphrodite replied. "I remember the nuns used to cook, sometimes, huge batches of pastries that smelled delicious. You know, back… then." Before he'd been taken to the Sanctuary. "It was nice. I'd like to try it, I think."

It wasn't the question Shaka had asked but, somehow, the answer was exactly what he'd wanted. It seemed Aphrodite and his friends had a knack with that: ignoring what you said and answering to what you meant. More often than not, it was considered useless among the Gold Saints, painful sometimes, though they'd never have admitted it out loud. The Bronze Saints, Shaka knew, deemed this unnecessarily cruel, though they would –could?- never explain why.

"I think I'd like to try embroidery," Shaka said in a quiet tone. "Something like the patterns they use to sew on saris."

Aphrodite smiled, neither mocking nor supportive. Just… smiled. And it felt right, somehow, to be seated there with this man who couldn't possibly be any more different to Shaka than he already was, pretending to look at the surface when he went deeper; while Shaka pretended to look at the soul to better avoid scratching the surface. Their silence wasn't awkward, though not quite companionable, yet, but that was all right, too, because they weren't friends yet. It seemed, though, that between the moment they went to bed and the moment Aphrodite roused Shaka in the smallest hours of the night, they'd moved to that place where they weren't friends _yet_, but they could grow to be. Someday.

"What do we do now, though," Aphrodite insisted after a while.

"We follow the river, going against the flow. Rivers go south, but that where they'll look for us –down the paths we know… right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. So we go north. And we stay close to the river. We're bound to find a village or something at some point. There's always people somewhere near water."

"How would you know?" Aphrodite asked.

"You know about the cold, I know about where it's hot. To each his work."

"So, you're coming then?"

And thought it sounded like a question it wasn't one, not really. Because, Shaka realized, Aphrodite had known even before himself that, even for him, there would never be any question as to whether he would try to live his life or not.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming."

And just like that, they became friends.


End file.
